


Pain For Pleasure - Part Two

by lucy_hudson



Series: Pain for Pleasure [2]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, BenedictxReader, BenedictxYou, Cumberbatch, Cumberbitch - Freeform, Cumbercollective - Freeform, F/M, Masochism, NYC, Porn, Sadism, Sadist Benedict, Sex, Sherlock - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_hudson/pseuds/lucy_hudson
Summary: A year ago, you and Benedict Cumberbatch had a one night stand in NYC. Now he's back, and he wants to see you.





	Pain For Pleasure - Part Two

**Author's Note:**

> (y/n) = your name

Your eyes fluttered open as the bright sunshine invaded your room. When you picked up your phone from your bedside table, you saw that it was already almost 4pm. You hadn’t gotten home until after 6:30 in the morning. 

You had a text from a number that wasn’t in your contacts. 

“Send me photos of the marks.”

It was short and matter-of-fact, but it was still sexy. You knew it was from Ben, and you honestly hadn’t expected him to use your number at all. When you tried to get up to go to the bathroom, the pain washed over your body. The soreness was everywhere. 

In your bathroom mirror, you inspected yourself. There was a light bruise on your cheek from where he had hit you. You traced over the red welts on your neck and wrists from the ties. Small bite-sized bruises trailed down your back towards the marks on your ass. You were thoroughly fucked. 

After you cleaned up your bathroom of its usual mess of beauty products on the counter and towels on the floor, you started to take photos. First, you sat on the counter and seductively took a photo of your back and ass. You snapped a photo of your neck & cheek by raising your hand to put a finger in your mouth showcasing the matching marks on your wrist. When you decided the photos were good enough for him to see, you held your breath and hit send. 

While you waited for a response (and questioned if you were even going to get one), you decided to add his number to your contacts. He never said you couldn’t, so why not? He did text you, after all. First, you typed a simple “Ben” into the contact name but paused… you had something cheekier in mind. You laughed at yourself as you typed “Daddy” and left it at that. You were embarrassingly stereotypical, but it was funny. You couldn’t help yourself. Nobody else was going to see it anyway. 

Ping! Another message from Ben popped up. 

“Good. I’ll be using those later.”

Your breath caught in your chest and you closed your eyes as you imagined him pleasuring himself to the thought of you. It felt dirty. It felt good. You were certainly going to reciprocate. But how were you going to respond? You didn’t want to come across as needy or clingy, so you decided against responding at all after typing and deleting a million possible responses. They all just seemed “too” something. No response was so much simpler. Leave him hanging, right?

Walking back into your bedroom, you collapsed backward on your bed like a schoolgirl who’s just had her first kiss. Honestly, you felt that way. You’d never found anyone you liked who’d wanted to do those things to you. The men you loved were exactly the opposite. They were sweet, kind, and respectful. You appreciated that. It felt nice to be loved… but still. You wanted that kind of appreciation in public, not in private. And maybe not always even then. Vanilla sex wasn’t so bad sometimes, but it never quite sated you. 

Thoughts and recollection of the night before swirled endlessly around in your brain. It had been so good, and now you wanted more. Who wouldn’t? But that’s not how this works. You met him by chance. It had worked out well, but it was a one night stand or a sex-only kind of deal. He said he’d get in touch if he was in town again (and of course he would be in town again, this is NYC for Christ’s sake), but you weren’t sure if he had meant it. In any case, it couldn’t bring your day, or your life, to a halt. The show must go on. 

Today was pretty much shot because you had slept through it, but there was still a little time to enjoy an evening to yourself. You fixed your hair, did your makeup (the mark on your cheek REFUSED to be concealed), and picked out something to wear before grabbing your bag and phone and heading out the door. 

The snow was falling quietly over the city; it was the perfect weather for hot chocolate. Darkness had already come early as it does during the winter, and everything around you was aglow with Christmas lights and decorations. You marveled at all the store windows on the way to the little cafe by your apartment. After you got your hot chocolate (peppermint, extra whip), you knew where you wanted to go. Rockefeller Center wasn’t far away at all, so you took your time walking there. Your drink kept your hands warm while you sat and watched all the people ice skating. The tree was gorgeous. Everyone just seemed so… happy. This time of year seems to do that to people, you thought. 

Your walk back home was short and snowy. This little outing had successfully kept him out of your mind for a few hours, but it wasn’t enough to keep thoughts of him away forever. Every time you winced in pain when you were getting undressed or moving about your apartment, his face appeared in your mind. You saw him standing at the window, looking out at the city, and a sharp pang of longing blew through your chest. Still causing pain, even though he wasn’t there. A sadist indeed. 

After a week, your body healed. After a month, you thought of him a little less. After six months, you had let him go. So when a text came across your phone a year later, you were genuinely taken aback.

From ‘Daddy.’

You audibly gasped. 

“I’m in town for three days. Are you available?”

You worked online from home, so you made your own schedule. You were completely and totally available for the next three days...but he didn’t know that. You didn’t really want him to know that either. Again with the clingy and needy bits. Your thumbs hovered above the screen, hesitating to type a response. How should you phrase this? How do you tell him you’re available without screaming that YOU. ARE. AVAILABLE. 

“When?” You sent the message coolly. 

Ping! “All of it.”

Oh, you thought. Ohhhh fucking boy. Three days. Wouldn’t he be in town for business or something? For work? Interviews?

“I think I can work something out,” you typed back. 

“Good,” he responded, sending you his hotel address and room number.

You didn’t respond, and another text message lit up your phone.

“Don’t bother packing,” he sent.

Now, you were confused. After a moment, only one possible scenario came to mind. If you didn’t need to pack, then you weren’t going to be leaving the hotel. It seemed fitting, but wouldn’t he want you to bring lingerie or something? Anything at all?

“What time?” You hit send.

“10:30pm. I’ll send a car,” he responded instantly.

Well… that’s that, you thought. It was 6:30pm now, so you had a little time to… spruce things up. You showered, shaved, and made sure everything was prepped. Big, tousled hair? Check. Sultry makeup? Check. Sexy, understated outfit with expensive lingerie underneath? Check. You took your time to get everything just right. It seemed like you were getting ready for a date, but you weren’t. You constantly had to keep yourself in check and not get carried away. 

You took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. There wasn’t anything else to do now except a spritz of perfume. After you grabbed your favorite scent off your dresser, you checked the time. 10:28pm. Time to head out. You slipped on a long dress coat and took the elevator downstairs. As promised, a car was waiting for you. 

The driver opened the door for you, revealing an empty backseat. No surprise there, you thought. You hadn’t expected him to actually pick you up. He hadn’t implied he would. If nothing else, he seemed to be exactly what he said he would be so far without embellishments or surprises. 

The driver made no conversation with you, and vice versa. You were nervous and had to focus to keep yourself from trembling. Your breathing was uneven. I need a drink, you thought as you arrived. The hotel was beautiful, just as the last had been, and conveniently had a gorgeous bar. It was just what you were looking for. Sure, he was expecting you, but it wouldn’t kill him to wait while you had one drink. 

You sat at the bar and ordered your favorite drink. The bartender could sense your nervousness and placed a shot in front of you without comment. You downed it without question and thanked him. It was after eleven now, and you were stalling. There was one sip of your drink left, but you were making excuses in your head, trying to drag it out when you received a text.

“Where are you?” He inquired.

“At the bar downstairs. I wanted a drink,” you said without emotion.

“There is a bar in my room. If you want to drink, just come upstairs.” He was getting impatient now.

You settled your bill and took a deep breath before sliding off the barstool and bravely marching towards the elevator. The doors opened, and you stepped inside. You could still turn around, couldn’t you? You could get off the elevator and catch a cab back home...but you had hoped for this once. You wanted to see him again, and this was your chance. Anxiety could not get the best of you. Not tonight. 

The doors parted, and you stepped into the hallway, looking for his suite. You stood outside the door for what seemed like an eternity just staring at the numbers before you knocked. The sound of footsteps coming towards the door made your heart race, and it stopped altogether when the door opened.

He stepped aside to gesture you in without saying hello. You entered the suite silently and turned to face him as you took off your coat. Holding a drink, he looked you over. It felt like an inspection… like he was assessing your worth. You held your breath.

“(y/n),” he said quietly. He remembered your name. You were in disbelief.

“Ben,” you softly exhaled.

“What would you like to drink?” He asked, making his way towards the luxurious bar cart.

You told him your selection and timidly sat on the sofa to wait while he prepared it for you. You desperately wanted to make small talk like normal people. How was his day? His flight? His dinner? Did he have a good year? But you kept quiet, unsure of where the boundary lay. You weren’t a prostitute by any means, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel like one in this moment. 

“There you are,” he said, handing you your drink and sitting down beside you. 

“Thank you,” you quietly replied, looking at his hands instead of his face. You had been avoiding eye contact since your arrival.

“Is there a reason you aren’t looking at me?” He sounded irritated.

“Not at all. I’m sorry,” you apologized, glancing up at him with a forced smile before taking a big gulp of your drink.

“Look, if you don’t want to do this…” his voice trailed off as he swirled his drink.

“No! I want to. I want to,” you assured him, trying to sound more confident than nervous.

“Good,” he smiled, “because I’ve been spending entirely too much time looking at those photographs.”

The photographs. You had nearly forgotten them entirely. He still had them… that was a surprise. You had figured he would’ve moved on to someone else. God knows he had the resources.

“Oh?” You replied, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head a bit.

“Yes…” he growled as he set down his drink and moved towards you. 

He took your empty glass from your hand (that drink didn’t stand a chance of lasting more than 60 seconds) and set it on the coffee table. In a flash, his hand was on your knee, moving up your thigh. He snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you to him, simultaneously cradling your neck with his other hand. 

The last time you had seen him, it was all very shallow and cold. He hadn’t kissed you or made any attempt to. This time was different. He leaned in towards you, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. He was staring at your lips as you moved in and let him kiss you. His lips collided with yours, and it quickly became feverish, passionate, and needy. He was hungry, and so you were you. Both of you were hungry for this type of interaction...the kind you couldn’t seem to find anywhere else. 

You hadn’t slept with anyone else after him, and it was driving you insane. It wasn’t for lack of trying. You went out to bars with your friends and tried to flirt with other men. You deliberately went for the ones you thought might be more interested in what you liked. They were certainly interested, trying to take you back to their place (or your place or the bathroom…), but it never felt quite right to you. It never seemed to work out in your head. They just seemed scummy. If it wasn’t going to be what you wanted, then why bother?

Climbing on top of you, he recaptured your distracted mind. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath. You felt dizzy. You were already seeing stars. Why hadn’t you tried to kiss him before? My god, you hadn’t known all you were missing out on. His hands traveled your body and yours did the same, both of you furiously removing the other’s clothing. 

He pulled away for a moment, trying to even out his ragged breath.

“My god, I’ve missed you,” he uttered, looking down at you.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, trying to sound casual unsuccessfully. His words blissfully echoed in your mind. 

His lips crashed into yours again, then traveled to your cheek, nibbled your ear, and kissed down your neck. You expected him to bite, but he didn’t. Ben peppered kissed across your collarbone, took the peaks of your breasts into his mouth one at a time to suckle them for a moment, and continued to kiss down your stomach. He held your hips firmly, but he did not dig in. He caressed your thighs, pressing his lips into them slowly, traveling back up your body until his eyes met yours again.

“Bedroom,” he ordered. His voice alone could make me cum, you thought. 

He took your hand and led you to his bed. It was enormous and felt like laying on a cloud. You could handle staying in this bed for three days. Ben laid you back on the pillows and seductively climbed on top of you again, landing soft kisses behind your ear. You spotted a few BDSM accessories on the desk in his room and smiled.

“Will we be using those?” You smirked, nodding towards them.

“Not right now,” he whispered between soft kisses.

You were a little disappointed but still intrigued. What did he have in mind? He deepened his kiss, letting out a muffled moan. His sounds sent chills through you every time. You kissed him back, tangling your fingers in his hair. Ben pulled one of your legs up and rested it on his shoulder. He inserted his length into you and threw his head back with a deep breath. You moaned at the sensation of him in you, filling you once again. 

He gently held the ankle of your leg resting on his shoulder and kissed your calf as he slowly began to thrust into you. With this other hand, he skillfully teased your clit until your back arched and you clung to the bedding. A climax was already upon you, seizing control of your body. Every inch of you felt like you were on fire. 

“That’s my girl. Cum for me,” he smiled down at you. 

Ben switched positions, flipping you onto your stomach and entering you from behind. Another surprise, you thought as he made no move for anal sex like last time. He ran his large hands over your back, almost massaging it as he stroked himself into you again and again. He gripped your hips, your ass, your thighs… all with a gentle force. He quickened his pace, and you felt another orgasm begin. From the top of your head to your curled toes, it was an earthquake. Your vision blurred, and the sounds coming from you and Ben were fuzzy. 

His climax followed close behind on the heels of yours. He wilted against you, gently kissing your shoulder. You were still trying to catch your breath and get your bearings again when he got up and went to the bathroom. You could hear the shower turn on, but you made no move to join him. He didn’t join you last time, and you wouldn’t join him this time unless he asked.

He stepped through the doorway, interrupting your thoughts, and held out his hand. Well I’ll be damned, you thought, this is definitely not like last time. You smiled and got up from the bed to take his hand and follow him under the piping hot water. 

It was a luxury shower with enough room for six or eight people to stand comfortably with a large rainfall showerhead directly in the center of the ceiling above it. Steam billowed up all around the two of you. Leaning your head back, you let the water wash over your hair and down your back. The elation from your orgasms was still firmly planted in your body. Ben’s hands were in your hair, sudsing up the shampoo and massaging your scalp. God this feels nice, you thought to yourself. You turned to face him.

“Soap?” You inquired. 

He squeezed some body wash into your hands, and you started lathering him up. You lazily washed over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach…you let yourself wander down further, soaping up his cock and balls. He gave you a devilish smile and turned away to get shampoo for his own hair. Your hands traveled over his shoulders and down his back, letting your eyes drift towards his ass. It was as perfect as you remembered. The man was definitely well built. There was no denying that.

Once he rinsed his hair and body, he stepped out of the shower. You still had shampoo in your hair and had yet to do any conditioning. He grabbed a towel off the heated towel rack and began to dry himself off while you rinsed the shampoo. The glass was steamy, but he could still see you. Ben was staring, his eyes dark with lust.  
“Give me a show,” he playfully ordered.

“What kind of show?” You flirted back.

“I want to watch you climax again,” he growled. 

You smiled to yourself, happy to oblige. As the burning water continued to wash over your body, you let your head lazily roll back while your fingers traveled to your center. Knowing he was watching made it better for you. The fact that he was enjoying it made you enjoy it more. Your fingers slipped in and out of your slit, diving in and retreating again. Circling your clit, you inhaled sharply in satisfaction. You knew exactly how you liked it and gave him a show until he got what he wanted. Your body was weak from the pleasure as you turned to look at him. He smiled at you through the glass and left you to finish your shower.


End file.
